Bimbashi Joyce

On a bright June 27th, in 1920, A. C. sat hunched over his desk with a magnifying glass looking at the astounding pictures. They were already three years old but he had only recently been made aware of their existence. All of the experts and authorities he showed them to said that they were fakes. But they had to be real. They had to. His close friend Edward had personally gone to Cottingley to interview the photographers and their family and found them completely credible. It was he who had examined the original plates and reprinted the “epoch-making” images that A. C. was now holding in his hands.

Among other things, A. C. was a writer and he laboriously collected all sorts of interesting tomes that inspired him. On the massive bookshelf behind him was an impressive display of the world’s literature. The collection told the story of an extremely intelligent and successful person, well-traveled and well-versed in the doings of man. He was already past the age of 60 and had lived an exciting and decorated life.

One section of his library was devoted to his own works. These books, once written, A. C. never really glanced at again. The publisher would deliver him a copy and he would slide it into his shelf and forget about it. One book in particular, A. C. had apparently never even opened. Just below the volumes of Sherlock Holmes adventures, was a little collection of children’s stories and poems, for which he had written a tale called “Bimbashi Joyce.” If Arthur Conan Doyle had ever opened the book and flipped through its shiny pages, he may have noticed that the beautiful illustrations inside were the very models for the fairies that were posing in the photographs of the two girls from Cottingley.